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Sforza.
Rather, good Angelo,
Restrain my arm, than urge my gasping soul
To deeds of horror; limb from limb I'll tear
The dark apostate in her presence; sate
My rav'nous eyes upon her agonies;
Deface the beauty which has dared to cheat
The world with virtue's semblance; monuments
To future ages they shall stand, and leave
A dreadful lesson to posterity.
Angelo.
The night is waning fast; 't is now the hour
When from the palace-garden Julian glides,
Tearing himself from Veronica's arms,
Mid fond complaints, sweet kisses, and hot tears.
Sforza.
The palace-garden say'st thou? It shall be
To both a grave. Come on, Prince Angelo,
And witness my revenge. [Exeunt.
